


The Prince and the Bandit

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic 2018 [21]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Captivity, Community: mcsheplets, First Meetings, Kidnapping, M/M, Mystery, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:18:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: LJ Comment Fic for Royalty prompt: Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay,John the bandit kidnaps Rodney the princeIn which John kidnaps the Prince, and that's when things get really complicated.





	The Prince and the Bandit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkmoore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmoore/gifts), [SherlockianSyndromes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/gifts).



> Written for McSheplet's #280: Mystery
> 
> For SherlockianSyndromes, who had the great prompt, and Darkmoore, for her birthday.

Kidnapping the Prince was insultingly simple, and not really worthy of John’s particular skill set. But he was getting paid regardless, so he waited until it was full dark and the Prince came out beyond the castle walls for his nightly bout of stargazing.

“No guards?” Ronon asked, incredulous.

John shrugged. “Makes things easier.”

The Prince didn’t have much spatial awareness, either, because John was able to get right up behind him. After that, it was the work of a second to tap him on the shoulder and blow the sleep dust in his face. Ronon slung the unconscious Prince over his shoulder and they slipped away as quietly as they’d slipped in.

It was a three hour ride by horseback to John’s camp, and by the time they got close the sleep dust was wearing off and the Prince was getting agitated. Ronon had trussed him up like a Christmas goose, though, so all he could do was squirm around ineffectually where he was draped over the front of John’s saddle.

“Do you have any idea who I am? Heads are going to roll, I can assure you! Your heads, specifically.”

“Should’ve had guards,” Ronon replied. He was cutting slices from an apple, his mare not needing any direction to know where she was going.

“I have guards! I have a lot of guards! Only, they get in the way when I’m working on my star maps so I chased them off. And anyway, who’d want to kidnap me? I’m not even the heir to the throne!”

The Prince wasn’t wrong. When the Queen died it would be her daughter, Princess Jeanne, who would inherit the throne. The line of succession was mother to daughter. The most the Prince could hope for was to marry a princess from a neighboring country or become the official Counsellor to the Queen.

“Well, someone wanted you kidnapped,” John said. “And they paid a pretty penny for you.”

The Prince sucked in a breath. “Sex traders?” he whispered in horror.

John rolled his eyes. “You believe that Old Wives tale? Mothers tell their children that to keep them at home.”

Although he had an excellent view of the Prince’s backside and there was a lot to admire there. He’d make some princess very happy someday, John was certain. The Prince was sturdily built, broad in the shoulders and muscled in the thighs. John hadn’t gotten a very good look at his face, but the rest of him ticked a lot of John’s boxes.

“Then who hired you? I demand to know!”

“It was arranged through intermediaries,” Ronon said. “Could be anyone.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. If you don’t know who hired you, then what are you supposed to do with me? I mean…you’re not going to kill me, right? Because you could’ve easily done that already. Although I should point out that I’m losing circulation to many vital areas of my anatomy right now.”

The Prince had a mouth on him. He didn’t seem very princely at all, really. 

“Why the star maps?” Ronon asked. He fed the remainder of his apple to the horse. 

“What do you mean, why? Aren’t you the slightest bit curious about the firmament? The answers to all of life’s questions are out there, waiting to be discovered.”

“And how do you propose to get there?”

“Ha!” The Prince wriggled until he was partly up on his side. “Now I see! Whoever hired you wants the secrets of my inventions! Well, it’s not going to happen, so you may as well give up the game now. I won’t tell you anything!”

Ronon pulled out his whetstone and started sharpening his knife, after rubbing the apple juices off on his tunic. “We’ll see.”

He made it sound very ominous, which he was skilled at, although his size and demeanor were often enough to convince people to part with their riches. Particularly when he started pulling knives from countless hidden sheaths on his person.

But there was no grand plan, not like the Prince was thinking. They were to hold on to him until they were contacted again by the person who’d paid, at which time there would be a second exchange of money. Nothing had been said about torture to gather information. John wouldn’t have had anything to do with that in any case. He was a thief, sure, but he didn’t get off on the pain of others.

The camp was small, partially hidden by a fall of vines and an upswell of undergrowth that looked like an impenetrable tangle of green. But there was a secret to getting through it, which John and Ronon knew very well. On the other side were tents, a campfire, camp kitchen, and a discreet latrine.

It wasn’t much, but it was home.

“What is this? Where are we? Is this some sort of prison camp?” 

Ronon tugged the Prince off the horse and dumped him unceremoniously in the dirt, then took the horses off to feed and water them. John took a closer look at their captive, whose face was lit up by firelight. Strong jaw, good cheekbones, endearingly crooked mouth.

“Welcome to your new home, Your Highness,” John said.

*o*o*o*

By the time the sun came up John was certain he knew everything there was to know about Prince Meredith of House McKay. For one thing, he preferred to be called Rodney. He was also allergic to citrus, was a self-proclaimed genius, had a huge library of scientific books and scrolls, knew absolutely everything about the night sky, and had inventions other people would kill for.

He could talk at length about himself, or any other topic under the sun, for hours without needing to take a breath. He also displayed an unfortunate propensity for talking with his mouth full.

The Prince finally fell asleep just as dawn was blooming overhead. He was curled up next to the campfire, which had gone to coals, with his hands tied and John’s best blanket covering him.

“Remind me again how long we have to keep him?” Ronon grumbled. He’d sharpened every single knife in his possession, and then whittled an endless series of sticks so he could sharpen them again.

Teyla had long ago turned in, and John suspected that Doc had given himself a sleeping draught. John, surprisingly enough, wasn’t all that tired. The Prince was annoying, sure, and full of self-importance. But he was also pretty funny.

“We keep him until our contact comes for him,” he said. “And collect more coin.”

“They better be fast.” And with that Ronon turned in.

John stayed up, ostensibly to keep an eye on his prisoner. He wondered what was going to happen when the Prince changed hands. What was waiting for him? It wasn’t part of the job for John to know, of course. He was a bandit for hire, nothing more.

When Teyla woke up and spelled him, John went into his tent and tried to get some shut-eye. Something told him it was going to be a long day.

*o*o*o*

“Does he never shut up?” Doc helped himself to another cup of Teyla’s ruus wine.

John ducked his head to hide his grin. Their prisoner had started in almost the second he woke and had been going non-stop ever since. He’d complained about their living situation and offered up many suggestions for ways to improve it, some of which were actually pretty good. He’d complained about the food, not having a change of clothes, the smell in the latrine, and the insects.

It wasn’t until Aiden signaled with the pre-arranged birdcall that John realized what the Prince was doing.

“Shut him up!” Ronon hissed as he went for his crossbow.

“Hey! Hello! I’m here!” the Prince shouted.

John moved swiftly, wrapping one arm around the Prince’s neck and clapping a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, or you’ll find out how sharp Ronon’s blades are,” he murmured in the Prince’s ear.

He backed them up against a tree to keep the Prince from tripping him up, though he hadn’t put up much of a struggle. Ronon and Teyla had already melted into the forest, and Doc had retreated to his tent to hastily pack up his medical kit in case they had to make a run for it.

The Prince was even more solid pressed against John’s chest, a warm weight that made his skin flush. It had been a long time since he’d lain with a man and John tried hard not to imagine the Prince’s weight on him in a more intimate setting. It was particularly difficult with the Prince’s mouth moving against the sensitive skin of John’s palm because he still couldn’t stop trying to talk.

It seemed like forever before Aiden gave the all-clear. Teyla returned alone; Ronon had decided to track the Queen’s guards a while to make sure they didn’t double back. John released the Prince, rubbing his wet hand on his pants.

“Don’t you ever bathe? That’s so unsanitary! I realize you’re just thieves but have some respect for yourselves.” The Prince spit into the dirt. “You’re also idiots if you think my mother’s guards won’t find you. She has some excellent trackers.”

“He is right. It is not safe to remain here,” Teyla said. 

“We’ll give it one more day,” John replied. “If our contact is a no-show, we can move to one of the secondary camps and try to send word.”

“Futile,” the Prince said with a sniff. “Look, if you’re going to insist on keeping me here could you at least untie my hands? I need something to do. I could make you a gravity shower, it’s really easy.”

John rubbed a hand over his face. “Fine. Teyla, untie his hands. And tie his feet.”

“What? That’s not what I meant at all!”

“I may be an idiot,” John said. “But I’m not stupid enough to let you run away. Doc? Help our special guest here with his project. Don’t give him anything he can use as a weapon.”

Doc sighed. “Aye. Be a good lad, now.”

The Prince immediately began peppering Doc with requests for supplies and writing implements. John rolled his eyes and turned away, then discreetly licked his hand; he grimaced. The Prince was right, he really did need a bath.

*o*o*o*

The gravity shower was a wonder. Like being in a rainstorm but controlling when the rainwater fell. They each took a turn under it with river water warmed over the fire, and a block of Teyla’s soap. The Prince was insufferably smug about the whole thing and demanded an extra ration of food as payment.

Aiden came out of the trees for the evening meal, and somehow managed to out-talk the Prince as he asked question after question about life in the castle. They all got to hear about the Prince’s oversized bed and his personal valet and his gourmet meals and his cat. He didn’t say anything about his family.

John remembered what it was like, living in luxury; weighted down with responsibility and expectations. Life may have been a bit hardscrabble since he left home, but he had a level of freedom he would never give up. He was his own man, made his own decisions for better or worse.

“Aiden,” John said once the question and answer period wound down. “I want you to hit up your network, see what the word is on the Prince’s disappearance.”

“You got it, Shep.”

Aiden was John’s eyes and ears. He was enthusiastic, charming enough to get information out of unsuspecting people, and didn’t mind spending a lot of time on his own. He’d find out all the gossip on the Prince, because surely people were talking about the abduction.

“You should just let me go,” the Prince said. “I won’t tell anyone where to find you, I swear. I need to get back to my indoor plumbing. And no-one’s going to play with Falstaff, if they even think to feed him.”

“I do not understand the appeal of having a cat,” Teyla said. “They are very aloof.”

“They know their own minds,” the Prince corrected. “They choose who they associate with, unlike dogs which are dumb as rocks.”

“I like dogs,” John said. His father had kept hounds for hunting, and one as a companion for his sons in lieu of the friends they didn’t have time to make.

The Prince rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. Uber-masculine men like you find the mindless loyalty of a dog ego-boosting.”

“I prefer the wee turtles,” Doc said.

“You have weird friends,” the Prince told John.

John didn’t bother correcting him. Doc, Teyla, Ronon and Aiden weren’t friends. They were his family, better than the one he’d been born into. He would die for any one of them without hesitation.

He wondered if the Prince had anyone like that.

*o*o*o*

The news Aiden brought back was good for John but bad for His Royal Crabbiness.

“The official line from House McKay is that the Prince has gone abroad to further his studies.” Aiden unloaded the sack he’d returned with, which was full of presumably-pilfered foodstuffs and other supplies.

“No reward for my safe return?” the Prince sputtered.

Aiden shook his head. “As far as I can tell, none of the Queen’s Guard have been dispatched.”

“But…yesterday…”

“Routine patrols,” Ronon said. “I followed them for three miles and it was a standard sweep.”

John was relieved, and more than a little suspicious. If the Queen hadn’t raised the alarm, that meant they didn’t have to move camp, which in turn meant their contact would find them and give them the additional payoff in exchange for the Prince. But why hadn’t the alarm been raised? Why hadn’t the entirety of the Queen’s Guard been sent to the four corners of the kingdom looking for the wayward Prince? 

He turned to ask the Prince just that question, only he was gone, ducking into John’s tent faster than a guy with his ankles tied together should’ve been able to.

“Poor lad,” Doc said sadly. “I’m sure he was hoping for a different outcome.”

“You should talk to him,” Telya added. 

“Why me?” John wasn’t great at emotions, his or other people’s. It made him uncomfortable. But Teyla was giving him the eye and he knew better than to ignore that. “Fine. But you’re cooking dinner.”

Ronon frowned. “Why are you punishing the rest of us?”

John rolled his eyes and walked away as Ronon and Teyla got set up for a sparring match, Doc and Aiden making bets on who would win. (It was always Teyla.) He ducked into his tent to find the Prince sitting on his bedroll, flipping through one of John’s books.

“You read?” the Prince asked without looking up.

“Just because I live rough doesn’t mean I’m illiterate,” John replied without heat. He lowered himself down to the ground and stretched out his legs.

“I don’t like mysteries,” the Prince said, still not looking at John. “I need to know the how and why of everything. That’s just how I’m built, you know? But I just…I don’t understand why they’re not looking for me.”

He sounded honestly confused, and a bit forlorn, and John couldn’t help empathizing with him. He knew how it felt to be unwanted by his own family.

“Could be your mother doesn’t want to her subjects to know how easily you were snatched.”

The Prince shut the book with a snap and tossed it aside. “Or it could be they just found it convenient that I’m gone. I tend to rub people the wrong way.”

John could well imagine that. The Prince had a strong personality and wasn’t shy about voicing his opinion. John thought it was refreshing to know exactly what was on the guy’s mind; he’d had enough of artifice and ass-kissing.

He had no idea what to say to the Prince, but he didn’t seem to be waiting for any words of comfort from his captor.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll start working on the kitchen upgrade.”

The Prince skirted around John, the rope around his ankles forcing him to take shorter steps. John watched him go, conflicted.

*o*o*o*

“What do you suggest we do?” Teyla asked.

John had given the Prince his tent for the night, so that he could talk to the others about the ultimate fate of their captive.

“We were hired for a job,” Ronon reminded him.

“And we did that job,” John said. “We’ve already been paid to bring him here. We don’t have to hand him over.”

Doc poked the fire with a stick, sending sparks into the air. “Aye. But do we want to make an enemy?”

“An enemy of who? We don’t know who hired us, and we don’t know why they want the Prince. What if we’re handing him over to someone with dishonorable intentions?”

“Not our concern,” Ronon said. 

“Well, it’s my concern.” John had been thinking of little else since his talk with the Prince. “We kept the first part of our contract. We haven’t been paid for the rest of it, so I think we’re within our rights to say no. I won’t be associated with an assassination. Or those hypothetical sex slave traders.”

“If we let him go he’ll turn us in,” Aiden said. “He knows who we are and where to find us.”

“Maybe he wouldn’t.”

“He’s royalty, lad,” Doc said, not unkindly. “Taken against his will. He’s within his rights to hand us over to the Queen’s Guard.”

John sighed. They were right, of course. The Prince didn’t owe them anything. Sure, they’d treated him fairly since bringing him to camp, but the fact was he was their prisoner. And that’s all he’d ever be.

“What should we do?” John asked Teyla. She was the most level-headed of the group and he trusted her judgment. 

“I believe we should wait and see who comes for the Prince. If they have evil intentions, we can refuse to turn him over.”

“What other intentions would they have?” Aiden asked. “Is there a good reason to kidnap a prince?”

“Forced marriage,” Ronon said. “It’d be a boon to a lesser House. There’s worse things.”

John tried to imagine the outspoken Prince married off to some Lord’s daughter. Preferable to death, maybe, but that was a whole different type of servitude and he couldn’t see the Prince thriving in that kind of situation.

He wished he’d never accepted the contract.

Everyone turned in for the night, but John stayed up. He sat by the fire as the wood burned down to glowing coals. He knew Teyla was right; they needed to meet with their mysterious contact and find out what their plans were for the Prince. But his instinct was to cut the Prince loose and let him decide for himself what he wanted. If only that wouldn’t put John’s people at risk.

He heard shuffling footsteps and looked up, surprised to see the Prince joining him at the fire. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Well, I’m obviously not.”

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the night sounds of the forest around them: peeping tree frogs, the rustling of small creatures through the undergrowth, the occasional hooting of an owl.

“I wouldn’t, you know,” the Prince said after a while. “Turn you in, I mean. I wouldn’t do that.”

“You heard.” John scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“Self-preservation is important to me, so I wanted to thank you for not just handing me over to whoever paid you.”

John studied his captive for a long moment; his face was ruddy in the dying light. “Do you like it? Being a Prince?”

“No,” the Prince immediately replied. “I hate it. I have no options. I could be a great scientist, but instead I must marry or act as advisor my sister. Always in the service of someone else. You’re the lucky one, John. You get to live life on your own terms. I’m not sure that means living in the middle of the woods without indoor plumbing, but at least you can decide for yourself.”

John found himself nodding. “It wasn’t always this way for me. I fought for it. Fought against my father’s expectations. You can, too.”

“It’s not that easy for me,” the Prince said.

It hadn’t been easy for John, either. It had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. But he wasn’t in a sharing mood, not about his past or his father or his House.

“You should try to get some sleep,” he said. 

“What about you? Are you going to sleep out here?”

John shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“It’s stupid. Your tent is more than big enough for both of us.”

“I don’t –”

“I insist.” The Prince stood up and pointedly waited for John to do the same.

John was too tired to argue. Together they unfolded the pallet to make it big enough for two, though now with less padding. It was close quarters, and John tried not to think about how it had felt having the Prince’s body pressed against his.

It was a long, long time before he could fall asleep.

*o*o*o*

John woke in the dusky twilight of pre-dawn to find the Prince propped up on one elbow and staring at him.

“Your ears are pointy,” the Prince said in a hushed voice.

“Okay.”

“And you could use a shave.”

John didn’t know where the Prince was going with the inventory of John’s features, and it was hard to get a good read on him with the tent still being so shadowed. He had to admit that being read a list of personal flaws first thing in the morning wasn’t his preferred way to wake up.

Then again, the Prince was very close, nearly pressed up against John’s side. And there was a kind of tension in his voice that was doing strange things to John’s stomach.

“You’re ridiculously attractive.”

John’s skin flushed hot. The Prince leaned closer still, almost close enough to kiss, and suddenly that was the only thing John wanted. He wanted to kiss that crooked mouth, wanted to silence the Prince’s words and hear only sounds of his desire.

The Prince licked his lips and John was mesmerized by the movement of his tongue.

“John, I –”

“Riders approaching!” Ronon called out. “Everyone up!”

John scrambled to his feet with a curse. He must’ve missed Aiden’s signal. The Prince was still sprawled on the pallet, looking up at him with an open expression of disappointment. John made a split-second decision that he hoped didn’t come back to bite him or his people in the ass.

He pulled the knife from his boot and cut through the Prince’s ankle bindings. “If things go badly, you run. As fast and far as you can.”

John ducked out of the tent. “What do we have?” he asked Ronon.

“Looks like our contact has arrived. They’re carrying the signal.”

“Let’s go meet them, then. Doc, get ready to leave. Teyla, stay out of sight. We may need backup.”

John and Ronon slipped through the camp cover and waited. He could hear two horses approaching at a sedate pace, and when the riders came into view between the trees he saw that one was carrying a branch wrapped with blue ribbon. The signal.

Both riders were wearing long cloaks with hoods that hid their faces, but John could tell that they were women just by the way they moved when they dismounted. The shorter of the two stepped forward. 

“We’ve come for Prince Meredith, as previously arranged.”

“Yeah. About that. I need to know your intentions.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your intentions,” John repeated. “What are you going to do with him?”

“That’s hardly a worthy concern for a bandit such as yourself. We have brought your payment.” She gestured toward the other woman, who produced a leather pouch heavy with the coin they’d been promised. 

“The Prince is under my care until I accept that payment. So I repeat my question.”

The woman pushed back her hood, revealing a fall of curly blonde hair and an amused expression. “Has he won you over already? That didn’t take long.”

John exchanged a puzzled look with Ronon, and then the Prince himself was pushing through the camp cover, cursing as he got tangled up in the vines. John sighed and helped him get loose. Before he could admonish his captive for acting so rashly, the Prince got up into the woman’s face, wagging his finger at her.

“What are you up to? Do you think this is funny?”

“You don’t play the part of captive very well, I see,” the woman retorted.

“You two know each other?” John asked.

“Her Royal Annoyingness, Princess Jeanne of House McKay,” the Prince said, his tone dripping sarcasm. “And her partner in crime. Captain Carter, I presume?”

The second woman tossed back her hood to reveal short-cropped blonde hair and a more serious countenance. Her cloak parted just enough in the front to show the hilt of a short sword. As Captain of the Queen’s Guard, she’d know how to use it.

“Your Highness,” she said, with a nod to the Prince.

“Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” John asked. 

“Are we still getting paid?” Ronon asked at the same time.

Captain Carter glanced at the Princess, who gave a curt nod, and tossed the pouch to Ronon. He caught it with one hand and a pleased looking grin.

“Jeannie, what are you doing?” 

“I’m saving you,” the Princess replied. “You were meant for better things. Mother can’t see that, but I can. You’ll never be happy with me, or some random girl Mother marries you off to. Leave here and go find your happiness.”

“But…but…”

The Princess hugged him and kissed his cheek. “You know this is for the best.”

Captain Carter untied a leather satchel from her saddle and handed it to the Prince. His belongings, John assumed. The way the Prince clutched the satchel to his chest was confirmation enough.

“What about Falstaff?”

“I promise I will look after him.” The Princess turned her attention on John. “Sir, I thank you for taking care of my brother. I would ask you for one more favor.”

“Name it.”

“Take my brother far from here. I hear there’s a House in need of a Lord out beyond the edges of the wild wood. Perhaps the two of you could settle there and he could pursue his science.”

The Prince scowled at his sister. “First of all, I’m fully capable of taking care of myself. Secondly, do you live in a fantasy world? A bandit can’t just become a Lord, no matter how well-read he is.”

“A bandit who started his life as the son of a Lord could,” the Princess replied.

The Prince turned wide eyes on John, who wasn’t sure he was happy just being outed like that. He didn’t know how the Princess had found out who he was. He most assuredly had no interest in taking up ownership of a House.

Captain Carter tried to hand John a rolled, sealed scroll. “A letter, to the local magistrate. Your proven claim of title.”

John held his hands up and shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

The Prince surprised John by backing him up. “He’s happy out here, Jeannie. He doesn’t want to be a Lord.”

“It’s a small House,” the Princess replied. “In a remote village. You could live as you choose.”

Was there anything the Princess didn’t know about him? “I’ll need to think about it.”

“Don’t take too long,” Captain Carter suggested, pushing the scroll into his hand.

“I’ll miss you, Mer,” the Princess said. “You’ll write?”

The Prince nodded. “I will.”

The Princess and her escort mounted their horses and pulled their hoods back over their heads before riding back the way they’d come.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Ronon said, bouncing the pouch of coins in his hand.

“Understatement of the year, big guy,” John replied. 

**Four Months Later**

“Big moon tonight,” John said. He stretched out on the roof of the manor, head pillowed in his hands.

“It’s merely an illusion,” Rodney replied. “It seems closer relative to other objects, like the horizon, and smaller when it’s fully risen. It doesn’t actually change size.”

“Still looks cool.”

Rodney turned from his telescope and favored John with a disdainful look. “It’s not cool, it’s science.”

“It’s nice. Come here.” John held one hand out, and after a moment Rodney moved so he could take it. John pulled him down and kissed him, taking his time and doing a thorough job of it.

“Must you always distract me from my work?” Rodney complained when they came up for air. A hollow argument, given the way he curled up next to John, one leg thrown over John’s.

“Only when the moon is full.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s what you like about me,” John said confidently.

He was still pretty amazed at the turn his life had taken. A Lord and a Prince, living openly together. Living life on their own terms. The manor house was large, but John had filled it with his friends. They didn’t have to hide in trees anymore. And Doc had a thriving practice, which he’d long wished for.

If his life were a fairy tale, he was pretty sure he was living the happily ever after part.

“It’s not the only thing,” Rodney replied, brazenly cupping John through his trousers. “I do love how you look in moonlight.”

John rolled on top of him, capturing Rodney’s mouth in another kiss before leaning back to peel off his shirt. He loved the expression on Rodney’s face when he saw John’s bare flesh, a flattering combination of desire and affection. And under cover of darkness, up on the rooftop, they had the freedom to be intimate with each other while the warm breeze caressed their naked bodies.

It was a pretty good life for a former bandit and a runaway prince.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** This is a long overdue gift fic for darkmoore. When I saw this prompt I knew it would be right up her alley, because she loves a royalty fic. ::grins:: Sorry to get this to you so late, sweetie!


End file.
